XOXO Perfection!
by Screaming With Your Mouth Shut
Summary: An old, and quite frankly, rushed Rise-centric darkfic. A warning; Nothing in this fanfiction makes really any sense, it's just an angsty rollercoaster with Rise's name thrown into the mix. Note: contains fowl language, but that's what the M rating is for. DARKFIC ANGSTFIC RISE-CENTRIC


**A/N: Correct! It's been awhile...  
**

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 **XOXO Perfection  
**

 _Written by: Screaming With Your Mouth Shut_

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People make mistakes.

She knew that just as well as the next person. The infamous saying "shit happens", could accurately define the current situation she was in, better yet the majority of her life. One big misunderstanding to another, and will remain such until her last, unexpected, unexplained breath reaches out into the cold, musky atmosphere.

So, people make mistakes, huh?

To a degree, yes. When your lover and best friend, someone you whole heatedly trust with all your feelings and insecurities, someone you have known for the better part of a decade, turns their back on you, only to find that said person, had used, manipulated, and betrayed you for their own personal gain, only to wake up to find the opposite end of the bed empty, leaving no trace that he or she had slept their in the past couple of months, or was it years? That moment when you forgot the last time you had ever shared close proximity with another human being beside the little surprise, and only evidence of he or she's existence is growing inside of you. Then yes, maybe that one night when the moon reflecting onto the ocean surface so beautifully, and you don't know where you mind went, then can you call it a "mistake".

But don't go around saying that you didn't expect any of this to happen, when you subconsciously chose that really revealing dress and that the last thing you remember was the bottle opening. Because that's bullshit.

And there you were, nineteen, high school drop out, train wreck of a life, and on the verge of ending all with the shallow waters and sharp rocks teetering below you, with that little "gift" growing inside of you, only four weeks short of its due date.

Maybe, that was your first mistake, not taking that extra step.

Then I was born, all five pounds and 6 ounces of me. Immediately you wanted to get rid of me, or "it" as you so generously called me. Even if I didn't understand it at the time, it still left me heartbroken. Even now I wonder why you still chose to keep me, what made you change your mind? Maybe if he was still around, would my father have influence you decision in anyway?

No, I learned that a little ways down my road. My first... and only time ever encounter with my father. It was at that point that I knew my life would be pointless. A thought no four year old should ever go through. Looking back at it now, I have long since realized that that was the first mistake I have ever made.

My childhood was a miserable one. We were poor, my mom always worked two jobs to support the both of us, though most times we would always fall short, and she would always have to resort to more "questionable" ways of bringing food to the table. We had just enough money to rent a run downed, mold infested single room apartment in the more undesirable part of town. My school life was no better. I was constantly picked on and bullied for my meek personality, and the fact that I was much, much smaller then everyone in my grade. I was a coward, always hid from confrontation, cried at even the smallest of things, a feature that eventually earned my the reputation as the school's crybaby. It was because of these exploits, that I had a hard time making friends. Hell, the closest thing I even had for a friend was the few teachers who took pity on me. Oh, and there was also that old lady that lived down the hallway. She often took care of me when my mother was out working. But she had long since passed away.

But, as any good story would go, time passes by, and nothing really changed or improved. I still got picked on, my grades were... sub-par at best. Me and my mother had grow distant, rarely ever talking to each other anymore. And when we did, it was mostly arguing. The only good thing to come out of the eight or so years was that I got to meet my grandmother for the first time. It was from her where I learned alot about myself, including what my mother was like. Apparently, she was a problem child, difficult to control, demanding, spoiled, you name it. At the time, I didn't really understand the majority of it, but as time moved on, and a grew older, I began to see these traits, not only in my mother, but in myself.

Fast forward a year later. No friends, fresh out of elementary school, and into the scary world of middle school, home life has gone even more downhill if that was even possible. I was at the point where I didn't give a shit about anything anymore. I just let the world pass before me. The name calling and physical pain didn't bother me anymore, I just seen it as a part of life. I no longer cared when report cards were issued, I already knew what the grades looked like. I no longer covered my ears the times my mother would bring home another "pal" as she would always put it. I had long since stopped going outside, and my meals were minimal if existent at all.

Twelve years old, 83 lbs, standing 4 ft 4 inches, donning my school issued, unwashed, wrinkled up uniform, hair a borderline rats nest of red, with teeth that I haven't bothered brushing in a couple days. The last time I had properly bathed would make any sane individual crinkle their nose in disgust. Safe to say I was at the lowest point of my life by this point. I had nothing going for me, no talents, no future, I was going down the same path as my mother.

That was until I heard a certain song playing over a radio I just so happen to hear while passing by.

It wasn't anything special, a pretty basic pop song by today's standards. But there was something about that song that struck me at that very moment, I don't really remember much after that, except that I wanted to sound just like that.

It didn't take me very long at all really. One day, I was visiting my grandmother, and I suppose she over heard me singing in one of the guest bedrooms upstairs. She had sent in a recording without me knowing and within a matter of days, she had heard back from them. I was offered so many things, a "fresh start" as they put it. I accepted.

That was the second mistake I have ever made.

It felt like my previous life all over again. All my exploits were out in the open, and they took advantage of all of them, just like the kids at school used to do to me, only this time, they did it with a smile on their face.

It seemed like one thing after another with these people, a new music video here, a commercial shoot here. All this knowledge that had instilled on me turned me into what I am today, the exact opposite of was I was yesterday.

I was a sex symbol in the eyes of the Japanese youth. Young, attractive, long slender legs and a pair of breasts that anyone could recognize with a drop of a hat, but a face that seemed to be lost in translation. I quickly found out that they didn't want me, they wanted _her..._

I should have stopped it there, but I didn't. I stuck with what I knew, and that was just go along with things.

...but even that was beginning to get out of hand.

The photoshoots, the interviews, the commercials, the concerts, the fan meets, the interviews, the commercials, the photoshoots, the interviews, signing autographs, signing her poster, signing his cellular phone case, the interviews, the photosh-

I snapped...

I was sitting inside my trailer, only minutes away from finishing the last part of the new Cello Mist commercial. We were three day's behind schedule, and there was a hostile air that seemed to loom around all of the production staff, myself included. All was forgotten with three loud knocks. So I opened the door.

I remembered these people. They used to bully me in middle school, now here they are, borderline-begging me for an autograph. No, not me...

... _her..._

I threw myself into the stationary mirror afterwards, my fists a terrifying tornado of all the loneliness, misery, and self-hate that I kept bottled up inside me. I just kept punching, breaking it more and more until blood stained the carpet, but I didn't stop there...

They told me they found me in my trailer, huddled up in the far corner, shivering, naked. My clothes long since discarded, but a musiuem sized display of blood that stained nearly every square inch imaginable. The doctors said It was a blessing that I kept all my fingers. I say it's a curse.

It was since then that my manager at the time thought it would be best to place me into a home. Yes, a FUCKING LOONY-BIN!

Five times a week, I would put on this bullshit gown, go into some bullshit room, and converse with some bullshit women who labeled herself an "psychiatrist".

Look at me now, mother. Are you proud of me? That lady said that I couldn't handle the fame, and that I should distance myself from the spot light as much as possible. Her words, never once failing to amuse me, ya know? So, look at me, mother. The real me. Not the one you talk about on those midnight guest talk shows, or the one you read on the Sunday tabloids. Me, Rise Kujikawa, you're precious little failure, moving along her merry way, to nowhere. You know nothing!

...but... you were right about one thing... people _are_ assholes.

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 _ **A/N: OH WOW A DARK RISE-CENTRIC FANFIC SO EDGY OMG LOLOL RATED EIGHTEEN PLUS  
**_  
 ** _In all acutallity, I had written this like a year ago but never bothered to post it because I didn't like it and I still don't like it. So here it is, all 1700+ words of bullshit. Seeing as I hardly have anymore time to write anymore, I'm just gonna post old abandoned works instead until I have nothing left to do. So stick around!  
_**

 ** _Peace bitches!_**


End file.
